Bloodlines
by carebear88
Summary: After the new Dark One is defeated, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have a child that will change the course of history throughout the Enchanted Forest. And an epic journey will begin. Rumbelle AU
1. A Burst of Golden Light

**Summary**: After the new Dark One is defeated, Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have a child that will change the course of history throughout the Enchanted Forest. And an epic journey will begin.

Merry Christmas!

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Ch. 1

The Clerics' Hall of Westport was as grand and intimidating as Rumpelstiltskin had read about in the history books and scrolls his wife, Belle, had insisted on keeping in the ship's hold. Stained-glass windows lined the stone building and accusatory statues of gods old stared back at him. A High Priest was at the pulpit, lighting incense in his red and blue robes, his long white beard visible through his garment hood. Rumpel swallowed hard and advanced towards him, head high but hidden beneath a gray cloak.

The High Priest barely turned before grunting and saying, "I know it's you, Sire. No need for theatrics in the house of the gods."

Rumpelstiltskin pulled down his hood. "You might know why I'm here, then."

The Priest turned, a smile on his old, wrinkled face, and snuffed out the candle he was using to light the incense with. "I have an inkling. Come, have a seat." The man motioned towards a pew and Rumpelstiltskin took a seat. "What troubles you, Sire?" The High Priest sat beside Rumpel and planted the smoldering candle on the pew seat.

"I, uh . . ." Rumpelstiltskin tugged at the collar of his cloak. "I need some guidance. My wife is about to give birth. We've been on the high seas for nearly a year and . . ." Rumpelstiltskin lowered his head and clasped his hands together, though he and the priest knew he would not pray. A man with as many sins as him was unaccustomed to the mercy of the gods. "Cleric, I wonder if . . . if a man can truly be forgiven? If salvation is possible?"

Again the old man grinned. "I know your reputation, Rumpelstiltskin. A Seer like me has become aware your misdeeds throughout the centuries. But you're a man, now. And the gods inform us that man can be forgiven of his sins."

Rumpel sighed and looked at the Cleric. "I don't want my child born into this life of . . . of fear. I want to be able to settle down with my wife and raise our baby. I want a normal life."

The Cleric shook his head. "You'll never have a "normal" life, Rumpelstiltskin. You know that as well as I."

"I'm tired of running, Cleric."

"Yes. But your journey has just begun."

The doors to the large hall opened, probably a few eager patrons for morning mass, and the High Priest stood. "If you're looking for salvation," the Cleric said, "look within. You're intentions are pure. Just make sure your actions match them.

Rumpelstiltskin watched as the Cleric rounded the pew and walked down the aisle to the doors of the hall. He looked at his hands, chapped from the salty ocean wind, and blew out a sigh.

Two blocks down from the Cleric's Hall, Belle toured the market with her maid-in-waiting, Glissa. They both wore black cloaks to hide their frames, though Belle's swollen, nine-month pregnant belly stuck out prominently. After a scene at the port in Spicetown—a man in a gray shawl had tried to grab Belle outside a pub before Rumpelstiltskin threatened to cut him from navel to neck—Belle thought it best to be a little more cautious of her surroundings. There were still people throughout the land who wanted her husband's head for his crimes as the Dark One, and even though the Enchanted Forest had known peace for the last year and a half, revenge was a hard taste to get rid of. Their life on the sea had been relatively quiet, but with the baby about to come, Belle worried about where they would settle.

Glissa held up a long chain with a dazzling emerald stone. "Look, my lady. Isn't it lovely?"

Belle smiled. "You could sink the ship with that kind of jewel."

Glissa laughed. The market was bustling with morning activity—bakers bringing loaves of bread to shops, children running between the skirts of noble ladies, vendors haggling with customers over spices and fruit. Belle picked up a silver ring inlaid with an opal and showed it to the young blonde maid.

"What about this? Do you like it?

"It's beautiful." Glissa smiled. "Too fancy for the likes of me, though."

Belle grinning playfully and pretended to glance over the other rings. "I'm sure Calden would like it on you."

Glissa laughed and tugged on her mistress's arm. "How d'you know about me and Calden?"

"I have eyes," Belle said, "and he always takes his meals with you on deck than in the hold with the other men."

Glissa blushed and glanced away shyly. Belle put the ring on her maid's finger and searched her cloak for her bag of coins.

"My lady, no!" Glissa protested.

Belle handed the brown-skinned man five coins and he thanked her. She looked at Glissa and said, "You deserve it. You've been so good to me and my husband all this time."

Glissa fiddled with the ring on her finger, still unsure. "Madam, I-I don't—"

"Please." Belle took her maid's hand in hers. "Think of it as man early wedding present." She gave the girl a wink and Glissa laughed.

As Belle walked down the street to the next vendor, Glissa stopped to admire the opal. Rumpelstiltskin and his wife had been more than kind to her since she offered to join them on their travel—giving her her own private room aboard the ship with silk sheets, good food, and time to herself whenever they ported. But this ring was certainly the most precious thing she owned, a symbol of friendship between her and Belle. Glissa knew right then that she would never take it off.

The young maiden looked up in time to see a man in black armor step out of the shadows in the nearby alley. A lordship's guard? Possibly. But it troubled Glissa that he watched Belle intently, his eyes hidden behind a black mask and his hand hovering over the handle of his sheathed sword.

"My lady!" Glissa called out.

Just as Glissa ran to her, Belle doubled over, clutching her swollen belly. She squeezed her eyes shut, a sharp pain ripping through her abdomen. "Augh!"

"My lady, what is it?" Glissa said, holding Belle's arm to steady her.

"The baby!" Belle gasped. "It's coming!"

Glissa looked around, wondering if anyone would run for help. She saw the man in black armor slink back into the shadow of the alley. "Someone help!" Glissa cried. "She's going into labor!"

Belle squeezed Glissa's hand tightly. "Go to the Cleric's Hall. Find my husband." She gasped again and cried out in pain as another contraction slammed into her. "Hurry!"

An old woman from a nearby shop hurried over and offered her hand to Belle. "Go, dear. I'll bring her to the midwife's home."

"Thank you!" Glissa barely got the words out before she sprinted down the lane, twisting through the cobblestone streets to the main square. In the middle of the square was a great stone fountain of one of the gods of old, Poseidon, and beyond the fountain was the Cleric's Hall. Glissa pushed past the throng of people heading into morning mass and burst through the large wooden doors of the hall.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" Glissa called.

She spotted him on the first pew by the altar. He turned his head towards her, then stood and ran to the door when he saw the seriousness on her face.

"What's happened? Rumpelstiltskin asked. "Is Belle—?"

"She's having the baby, my lord!" Glissa said breathlessly. "Come quickly!"

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The sound of Belle screaming rang throughout the morning and into mid-afternoon. The midwife's home was a flurry of people—old women taking bloodied bedsheets from the room and coming back with clean ones, curious children peeking around corners. Rumpelstiltskin sat on the third-floor deck just outside of Belle's room. Well, he only sat for seconds at a time. Mostly he paced, wringing his hands nervously as the midwife's husband sat on a chair and whittled from a block of cherry wood.

The midwife's husband, called Jakob, smoked a pipe and occasionally scratched his long black beard. He snorted a laugh every time Rumpelstiltskin sighed nervously.

"First one?" Jakon asked.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed again, bit his thumb nail, and shook his head, no. "It's, uh, been a while, though."

"Well, you're both young," Jakob said, puffing on his pipe. "My wife's a miracle worker."

Rumpelstiltskin sat on the chair by the table. The sun was out and the breezed carried the smell of the ocean from the port below. Belle cried out again from inside, and he could hear Glissa saying soothing things above the wailing.

"That's it, I'm going in there!" Rumpelstiltskin opened the double doors to the room and was instantly hit with the smell of blood, of mucus and wine and sweat. As soon as he had entered, he wished he hadn't.

Belle was on her back on the midwife's bed, her gown pulled above her knees. Her head was thrown against the pillow, sweat drenching her hair as it matted to her agonized face. She opened her beautiful blue eyes and gave Rumpelstiltskin a look that made even him coil in fear.

"I. HATE. YOU!" she bellowed.

The midwife was at the basin of wine by the door. She laughed as she dipped her hands in the liquid and dried them. "They all say that, m'lord. Don't take it to heart."

"Ow!" Glissa cried as Belle clutched her hand tighter.

"M-Maybe I should—"

Rumpelstiltskin took a step towards the deck, but Belle reached out to him. "No, please! Stay with me! I'm so sorry, I'm sor_aaaaaaugh_!" She unleashed another blood-curdling scream and Rumpelstiltskin took Glissa's place by his wife's side. The young girl seemed thankful to not have the bones in her hand be the target of pain.

"It hurts," Belle mewed.

Rumpel took her hand and stroked her forehead. "I know, love. You're so close, though—"

"He's right," the midwife said, setting herself on a stool before Belle's open legs. "I can see the baby's head. You'll have to start pushing, Miss Belle."

Belle shook her head feverishly and cried. "No, I can't!"

"Ain't got a choice, dear. It'll all be over soon."

"Belle, look at me." Rumpelstiltskin took her chin and turned her head towards him. "You can do this, darling. You're strong and brave. You've fought worse—"

Belle threw her head back again and screamed.

"Time to push!" the midwife yelled. "One. Two—"

"Push!" Rumpel cried.

Belle grunted, her face red and pinched as she hunkered down and pushed.

"Take a breath." The midwife steadied her hands between Belle's legs to catch the child. "Again!"

Belle cried out like a banshee looking for a lost soul and pushed again.

"That's it, that's it!" Rumpelstiltskin said. He looked down at her legs, eagerly awaiting the sight of his child.

"One more and you're done, miss," the midwife said. "One more push!"

Glissa was in the corner, rubbing her thumb over the opal ring, a prayer or two sneaking past her lips. She watched as Belle gave another push, her face red and wrinkled in pain, and Glissa wondered if marriage and children was what she wanted, after all this pain and suffering, and maybe she could live without Calden's soft lips and strong arms and—

Glissa gasped as a burst of golden light shot out from Belle's body and rippled throughout the air. Even the midwife stopped long enough to look around in wonder. Glissa thought she and the old woman might have shared in a hallucination, but Jakob came from the deck quickly and looked around, perplexed.

"Did you see that?" he asked.

His question was met with the wail of a baby. Glissa looked at Belle and a child had emerged from her between her legs, small and pink and a head of the thickest black hair she had ever seen. The child cried sharply as the midwife cut the cord. She wrapped the child up in a blanket and handed the girl over to a sobbing Belle.

"Oh my God," Belle whispered. "Oh my God."

Rumpelstiltskin had tears in his eyes, threatening to overflow as the baby nestled against Belle's chest and wailed mercilessly. He kissed his wife's forehead and touched the baby's hair. As soon as the baby reached out a flailing hand to him, the former Dark One burst into tears.

"She's beautiful," he said.

The midwife sat back, mesmerized. She had birthed hundreds of babies, but none that came with a mysterious golden light. She looked at Glissa and the two shared an expression of both wonder and fear.

Belle laughed, tears spilling down her cheeks. She tore her eyes away from her new daughter, not an easy feat, and looked at her husband. "Rose," she said.

Rumpelstiltskin met her gaze. "Rose?"

Belle nodded and looked down at her daughter again. The child was perfect in every way, though her skin was still matted in white goo and her black hair was slick with blood and mucus. To the proud parents, she was the most beautiful thing any of them had ever seen.

"Rosie." Rumpelstiltskin whispered. He leaned over and planted a kiss on the baby's head. "Our little Rosie."

**To be continued**


	2. The Merchant Ship

**A/N: Wow, so many followers already! Thanks everyone! Be sure to comment, I love to hear what you have to say, good or bad. :)**

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Ch. 2

A week after Rosie was born, when Belle was confident the child would latch on to her breast without the midwife's help and the captain of their ship had reassembled the crew from various taverns around the city, Rumpelstiltskin and his wife boarded _The __Aigéan_and set sail for the Enchanted Forest.

The crew was instantly taken with the child. They were a trustworthy lot, scruffy around the edges, but men of honor and fairness. Under the watchful eye of Captain Orgo, a dark-skinned man with a kind smile and gracious manners, the crew of thirty or so seemed to calm the waves and hush the wailing sea wind just for little Rosie.

When the ship set off from port, Belle brought her child to the Captain's quarters and the middle-aged seafarer instantly smiled when he looked up from this large desk. "Well, there." He stood and gave a polite bow to the young woman before him. "Who's this new mate on my ship?"

Rose wiggled in her cream-colored silk blanket and gave a yawn. Captain Orgo reached out and brushed a finger over the baby's cheek. He smelled of salt and seaweed, his fine clothes dirty and wrinkled from lack of washing, but Belle would have trusted him with her child any day of the week.

"Her name is Rose," Belle said, smiling down at her daughter. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"Aye. She's as pretty as her mum." Captain Orgo looked up at Belle. "How's the master?"

"Tired. He stays up all night just staring at her, as if she'll disappear."

"No chance of that, my lady," Orgo said. "We'll keep the lass nice and safe here."

Belle smiled gratefully. "Thank you." She switched the baby to her shoulder and rubbed her back. "You can expect a salary raise when we port. You and the crew."

Orgo waved her off. "No need for that, my lady. My crew and I will be just fine."

"No, I insist," Belle said. "You've made our journeys this past year so safe and comfortable. I want to make sure we leave you with something to live off of."

Orgo grinned. "You just worry about that baby for now, miss. We'll talk money when the time is right."

Belle relented and brought the child to the master bedroom in the lower decks of the ship. She set Rose in her fine blue-and-yellow cradle and let the waves rock the baby to sleep. Rumpelstiltskin was on deck with the sailors, watching the port diminish from the horizon as they glided further out to sea. The shipmates saluted and nodded their heads to the master as they passed him by. No one asked why he looked so troubled.

At the bow of the ship, the young seaman, Calden, was winding up some rope along his arm, the cool breeze ruffling his sandy-blond hair. His eyes, as blue as the ocean before them, glanced at the young maid before him, who leaned against the mast. Glissa smiled when he caught her eye.

"What is it, Calden?"

He grinned. "Just admiring the view."

Glissa blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What'd you want to talk about?" Calden asked, tossing the coiled rope on the deck.

Glissa's smile faded and she fiddled with the opal ring on her finger. "I saw something when the baby was born."

"Spare me the details," Calden said cheekily, sitting on a crate.

"No, I mean . . ." Glissa sighed, her pretty face twisting further into a look of concern. "There was this light. This golden light. It was like . . . like magic."

"Gliss, you know the master doesn't use magic anymore."

"I know." Glissa nodded. "But it wasn't like that. It was like the baby had magic. Like she was special or something."

Calden stood and took Glissa's hand in his. "It was probably just the sun playing tricks."

Glissa lowered her eyes. "I saw something else. In the marketplace."

"What?"

The young maid slid her hands away from Calden's and circled around the mast. "I saw a man in black armor. He was watching Miss Belle." When she completed her circle, Glissa looked at Calden. "I think he wanted to hurt her."

"Did you tell the master?"

Glissa shook her head."Gods, no! He has enough to worry about." She looked at the handsome young boy shyly. "But maybe you could come with me to tell the captain?"

Calden smiled. "You've got no spine, girl."

Glissa frowned. "I do too, Calden Cross!"

The boy laughed. "Fine, then. But it'll cost you." He closed his eyes and presented his cheek to the maid. She rolled her eyes and gave him a kiss. Before Glissa could pull away completely, he turned and gave her a kiss on the lips.

Glissa pulled away, blushing and grinning despite her best efforts and gave his shoulder a shove. "Calden, you rat!"

"You'll have to catch me!" He sprinted across the bow, down the stairs to the main deck where more of his crew mates were busy at work, and all the way to the captain's cabin.

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Orgo, though not a stupid man, was wholly unconvinced of the dangers of the man in black armor Glissa had seen at the market. Since it wasn't the first time Belle and Rumpelstiltskin had been the targets of others, the captain figured they were safe enough at sea with a crew he knew like the back of his hand.

Dejected, Glissa focused her attention on Belle and little Rosie. Three days after setting off from port, Glissa sat with Belle in the master bedroom, brushing the madame's hair while Belle nursed her baby.

"How's the lass?" Glissa asked.

"Oh, just wonderful." Belle looked down at her daughter lovingly. They had had their sleepless nights and fussy eating, fits of unrelenting crying and ungodly bowel movements, but Belle thought everything her daughter did, no matter how exhausting or disgusting, was the most precious thing she had ever seen.

"The master is very good with her," Glissa said. "I saw him today on the stern, dancing with the baby."

"He's going to spoil her rotten," Belle said, smiling. When it looked like Rosie was done feeding, she hitched the baby on her shoulder and tucked her breast back into her robe.

Glissa hummed as she brushed Miss Belle's long curls. The baby gave a hiccup, a few strained cries, then spit up on the rag over Belle's shoulder.

"Gods, where does she keep it all?" Glissa exclaimed. She ditched the brush and disposed of the dirty rag in the wicker laundry bin by the vanity desk.

The door opened and Rumpelstiltskin entered, his hair tousled by the sea air. He looked at his wife on the bed, then at the young maid. "Glissa, could you give us a moment, please?"

The girl nodded, curtsied, then left the room. Belle smiled at her husband. He was decked in his seafaring clothes, a simple white shirt, tight slacks, and a blue kerchief around his neck. He went to Belle and held out his arms, a signal that he wanted to steal the baby for a moment or two. Belle handed the child off to him, her smile fading when she realized her husband had a grave look in his eyes.

"What is it, love?"

Rumpelstiltskin stared at his child, beaming proudly, and rocked her gently in his arms. He glanced at his wife. "I don't want to alarm you. It's probably nothing."

Belle stood from the bed and pulled her robe tighter around her waist. "Tell me."

Rumpelstiltskin kissed the top of Rose's head. "We're being followed."

Belle's eyes narrowed. "What?"

"It's probably just a merchant on the same path as us. Many cargo ships use this route—"

"Have you spoken to the captain?"

"He's the one who told me." Rumpelstiltskin looked at Belle. "I didn't want you to look out the port window and get alarmed. Orgo raised the warning flag."

Belle nodded. The warning flag was a small white flag with a golden emblem, a snake with two daggers crossed underneath. It told other ships that they were armed but meant no harm.

"Has there been a response?" Belle asked.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. "Nothing. White sails, plain hull. Not out of the ordinary for these parts of the water."

Again Belle nodded and reached out a hand to touch Rose's soft black hair. "Maybe we should dock at the next port. Just in case."

"You've already sent word to your father. He'll be worried if we don't show up on schedule." Rumpelstiltskin set his daughter in the cradle. "Besides, the sea is no place for a baby."

Belle crossed her arms over her chest and looked at the floorboards. Rumpel put his hands on his wife arms and squeezed reassuringly. "There's nothing to worry about, love. I promise you, we're all safe aboard this ship."

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For the time being, Rumpelstiltskin may have convinced his wife, but Captain Orgo was on edge since spotting the tailing ship from the crow's nest. With Glissa's warning about the man in black, he began to wonder if she wasn't as hysterical as he thought. And rumors of the child's magic (no one knew what else to call it—a burst of golden light was nothing if not juicy gossip amongst the ship) troubled Orgo further. Did the master and his wife know something he didn't? Was that why they paid him and his crew so handsomely, to keep them from figuring out the truth—that, perhaps, Rumpelstiltskin was still using magic?

Orgo pondered these things as he studied a map of their course. They could reach the Enchanted Forest within three more days if the weather was good. He turned and looked out the large window of the stern. The mystery ship was gaining on them.

In the hold, Glissa sat in her room, chewing her fingernails and ignoring the dress she was mending for the baby. If a ship really was following them, that meant the man in black really did want to hurt Miss Belle. And what if they gained closer? What if she had unwittingly brought trouble on all of them by not telling the master about the man in black?

A knock sounded at the door and Glissa bid them to come in. Belle entered, having traded her robe for a green gown with fur trim, and the young madam was frowning.

Glissa stood. "My lady?"

"I need to tell you something."

Glissa nodded and motioned for Belle to sit on the bed. Belle took Glissa's hand in her's.

"I need your word you won't tell anyone," Belle said.

"On my life, my lady."

Belle sighed and looked at her hands. "I know about the ship. Rumpeletiltskin says it's nothing to be worried about, but . . ." Belle swallowed the anxiety climbing up her throat. "Before Rose was born, when you saved me from Jack's dungeon, I was visited by the Blue Fairy."

Glissa's eyes widened. She had heard tales of Ruehl Gorm's magic, but never once met anyone who had actually seen her. "What did she say?"

"She said that I would have a child with a great gift. That it was my destiny to bring this baby into the world."

"And you think that's Rose?" Glissa said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

Belle nodded. "I know about the golden light. I was in pain, but I could see it. She came out of me and it was like . . . like _magic_."

Glissa touched her mistress's face as a tear spilled down her cheek.

"Glissa." Belle's voice trembled. "I think my baby is in danger."

"Miss, you have to tell Rumpelstiltskin. He can protect you!"

Belle stood and wiped her tear away. "No. I don't want him worrying. He isn't sleeping as it is, and we're only a few days away from port—"

"But the ship is getting closer! The captain said—"

"Glissa, please!" Belle cried. She put her hand on the girl's shoulders. "You gave me your word not to tell anyone."

Glissa shook her head. "Then what do we do?"

"Tell Calden to assemble some of the sailors to keep watch on our door at night. Be discreet."

"My lady—"

"Please," Belle begged. "If we're wrong about the ship, it won't matter."

Glissa lowered her head and looked at the soft yellow dress she had been sewing for Rose. So small. So delicate. "My lady, is Rumpelstiltskin still using magic?"

Belle shook her head. A sad smile appeared on her face. "No. But sometimes I wish he was."

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That night, Captain Orgo settled into bed after leaving a few men on the night watch. He tossed and turned, anxious about the merchant ship that was most definitely getting closer. It had no flag, no emblem, just an eerie presence and an extraordinary pace.

The sea was as still as glass, barely a breath of wind to help them along. The ship was quiet, not even a wail from the newborn babe to jolt him from the fuzzy sleep that clouded his brain. He sank deeper into slumber, fully enveloped by darkness, so out of it that he didn't hear the clatter of men's footsteps from the bridge above, the clashing of swords, the cries of battle as the sailors fought large men in dark armor.

Captain Orgo didn't even hear his cabin door open. He didn't hear the heavy boots coming towards him. It was only until the dark figure unsheathed his blade that the captain opened his eyes. The only thing he heard then was his own throat being slit.

**To be continued **


	3. The Guild

Ch. 3

Belle awoke to the sound of her daughter crying, but it was her husband's dash to the door that jolted her upright. As the fog of sleep lifted, Belle could hear a struggle on the bridge—men yelling, swords clashing, maids screeching.

"We've been boarded!" Rumpelstiltskin said. He was fastening his sword belt over his waist, struggling to find his boots in the dark. "Take the baby and hide!"

"Wha—?" A clash was heard outside the door and Belle screamed. She scooped her child in her arms and held her close to her chest.

"The wardrobe!" Rumpel guided his wife to the large oak dresser in the corner and opened the doors. "Get in!"

"No, no!" Belle cried. No, she didn't want to leave him. No, she couldn't believe they were being attacked so suddenly in the night.

"Keep quiet," Rumpelstiltskin said, shutting the doors. "I'll come back for you when it's safe."

When the doors closed and darkness shrouded them, Belle held her wailing daughter's head and tried to calm her. Outside the room, the men Glissa had asked to guard the door had fled to the battle on the main deck. Rumpelstiltskin looked around the hold for the captain. He drew his sword when a large man in black armor rounded the corner and came at him.

Their swords clanged together, and where the man had bulk, Rumpel had speed. He had centuries as the Dark One to perfect his fighting skills and slain the man quickly. Another descended the stairs to the bridge—this man was thinner, about Rumpelstiltskin's height, and had a heavier sword that looked unfamiliar.

They fought harshly, their swords dancing and singing a sinister melody with every clank. Rosie's crying made the armored man turn his head, and it was just enough time for Rumpelstiltskin to push him away and stab him in the gut. He went down like a rag doll.

Glissa sneaked through the hold, ducking behind crates and pillars in just her nightgown, crawling her way to Belle's room. Rosie's crying guided her, but when she emerged from the gallery door, an armored man in black grabbed her by the hair and dragged her close to his masked face.

"Where's the baby?" he demanded.

"I-I don't know!" she cried.

The man opened his mouth to ask a second time, then cried out when a sword pierced through his chest from someone behind. The man fell, releasing Glissa's hair, and Calden was suddenly before her, his sword bloody and his body heaving with distress. He held out a hand to her.

"Come on , I'll hide you."

"No, I have to get to Miss Belle!"

From above on the main deck, a man cried in agony and fell to the floor. Calden took Glissa's hand. "Now, Gliss!"

"No!" Glissa ripped herself away, took the sword from his hand, and charged down the corridor to the cabins.

The sounds of battle raged from outside the wardrobe. Belle kissed her daughter's head as Rose screamed. As much as Belle wanted to cry herself, she kept calm and counted her breaths.

The wardrobe suddenly opened and Belle shrieked. A man in black reached out for the child but Belle held on tightly. He grabbed her hair and yanked Belle from the cabinet. She screamed bloody murder, struggling to get to her feet to run away.

"Give me the child!" the armored man commanded.

"No, please!" Belle begged.

As the man in black unsheathed his sword, Belle staring up at him in paralyzing terror, someone from behind gave a great yell, swung a sword, and slashed the armored man in the back. He fell to the ground, yelling in pain, and released Belle from his grip.

Glissa stood by. "Move away, miss!"

Belle clamored backwards against the bed and watched with amazement as the young, petite maid-in-waiting raised her sword and finished off the armored man by staking him through the throat. Belle closed her eyes and buried her face in her daughter's soft hair.

With the mysterious man's death, the fighting on board the ship seemed to halt. Rumpelstiltskin ran into the room moments later, his sword bloodied and his face red and sweating. He took one look at the man Glissa had killed and hurried to his wife and child.

"Are you hurt?" he asked Belle, touching her face.

Belle shook her head, no.

"The baby?"

"She's fine." Belle looked at her maid. "Glissa saved us."

Rumpelstiltskin looked at the young woman and nodded. "We owe you our lives."

Glissa lowered her head, her face melting in confusion and regret for her deed, and dropped Calden's sword on the floor. "I killed him," she said blankly.

Calden entered the room out of breath. He looked around at the carnage, at Glissa's shaking body, and took his cloak off and wrapped it around her. "The boarders are gone," he said to Rumpelstiltskin. "Most are dead, but some fled back to their ship. They came on rowboat and—"

"I killed him," Glissa whispered again.

Rumpelstiltskin helped his wife up and sat her on the bed. "The captain?"

"He's dead," Calden said. "We lost five men in total."

"Oh, God." Belle put a hand to her mouth.

Glissa turned to Calden, tears springing in her eyes. "I killed him!"

Calden held her in his arms and rubbed her back to calm her. Rumpelstiltskin looked around the room at the tired, scared faces. The baby was safe, but for how long? And why did these men want her in the first place? He stood, his legs trembling ever-so-slightly.

"We dock at the next port," he announced. Rumpel looked at Calden. "Tell the first mate."

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The sailors who had given their life to protect Rumpelstiltskin and Belle were given a proper sea burial, with all the amenities and honor of fallen soldiers. They were dropped into the sea at dusk, their bodies wrapped in fine linen. Captain Orgo's face was left uncovered as they tipped him into the calm ocean, a special prayer given to him by the shipmates. Belle watched the horizon with Rose in her arms, but the merchant ship had fled from their path.

Once ported at Locksbury, Rumpelstiltskin and his entourage continued by carriage to his castle in the mountains. Glissa sat in the carriage with Belle and her husband, and Calden was given permission to join them on the team of guarded men behind them on horses.

The journey to the castle took two days without any interruption. Belle slept fitfully, even as Glissa offered her arms to little Rosie, but Rumpelstiltskin was wide awake for most of the journey. He watched his wife slumber, a curl of brown hair falling in front of her face. He moved to the empty seat next to her and put his arm around her. Belle found his chest and nestled against him.

Glissa smiled slightly at the pair as she held the baby. If any two people were meant to be together in the world, it was them. He kissed his wife's forehead and brushed the hair from her eyes. Rumpelstiltskin looked at Glissa.

"You could have stayed in Locksbury," he whispered. "After everything, why are you still with us?"

Glissa shrugged slightly and rocked the sleeping baby. "I got no one else, my lord," she said. "You and Miss Belle are like family to me."

Rumpelstiltskin lowered his eyes and nodded understandingly. "I meant what I said on the ship, about owing you our lives."

Glissa shook her head. She looked at little Rose, so small and pink and smelling like the flower she was named after. Tears sprang to her eyes when she realized all of the carnage on the ship, all of the fear and useless fighting could have been prevented if she had just told the master the truth.

"Sire, I . . ." Glissa closed her eyes and bit her lip. She took a breath to steady herself. Just as she was about to say it, that the child was special and probably wanted in all the kingdoms, Belle stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin looked down at his wife, who blinked hazily out of her slumber. "Love?" he asked.

Belle squinted and looked around the carriage. "Where's the baby?" she asked, sitting upright quickly.

"I have her, ma'am," Glissa said.

Belle reached for the child. "Give her to me." She didn't mean to sound so demanding, but her dreams were plagued with visions of faceless men carrying Rosie away into the night.

Glissa handed the child over and Belle snuggled the baby against her chest. "Are we any closer?" she asked her husband.

"Half a day's journey," he responded.

Belle sighed, exasperated. "I hope Papa isn't worried."

They hadn't sent word to anyone that they were traveling by carriage, or even that their ship had been attacked, for fear it would be intercepted and they would be moving targets once again. Eventually, the rocky landscape gave way to tree-covered hills and mountains, peaks as high as the tallest castle and sky as blue as Belle's eyes. When Rumpelstiltskin's castle was finally in sight, Belle seemed to relax, even giving Rosie back to Glissa for some rest.

They passed through the town below the mountain without fanfare. At the castle gates, Lord Maurice was there to greet them, having seen the caravan wind up the rocky mountain. He smiled brightly and opened his arms as Belle exited the carriage. He hadn't seen his daughter since she married Rumpelstiltskin and they set out to sea.

"Papa!" Belle rushed to her father and hugged him tightly.

"My Belle," he murmured, squeezing her tightly. "My beautiful Belle."

Rumpelstiltskin stepped out of the carriage. When Maurice pulled away from Belle, Rumpel gave the Lord a respectful bow. "Sire."

"Rumpelstiltskin." Even after a year and a half as in-laws, Maurice still addressed Belle's husband with a sort of bitterness to his tone. He was respectful enough, returning the bow and shaking his hand, but there would always be a glimmer of mistrust in the old man's eyes for his daughter's well-being.

"Where's my granddaughter?" Maurice asked. "Let me see that lovely child."

Glissa came from the carriage with the baby in her arms. She smiled, presented the child to the lord, and Maurice instantly broke into tears.

0000000

Lord Maurice didn't ask why the family was late on their arrival at first. He had assembled his own procession from his estate and brought them to Rumpelstiltskin's castle to clean the drafty halls and make it more presentable to the new family. A host of maids scurried about, cooking and cleaning and setting up rooms. Knights guarded the corners and helped Calden settle the horses in the stables. It was the most activity Rumpelstiltskin had ever seen in his home. His heart filled with appreciation.

The maids had even set up a nursery for Rose—complete with a cradle, toys, stuffed animals, and a rocking chair for Belle to nurse in. The once dark and gray castle had come alive with brights colors and sunlight, and Rumpelstiltskin was confident they could make this their permanent home.

Before dinner, Rumpelstiltskin assembled Lord Maurice and his men in the dining hall. He told the of the attack on the ship, of the mysterious men in black armor who wanted the baby. Maurice was furious, shouting and pointing fingers and blaming Rumpelstiltskin for his deeds as the Dark One that had brought this misfortune on his granddaughter.

"Papa, stop!" Belle cried. "This wasn't his fault!"

"You swore to protect my daughter!" Maurice yelled to Rumpel.

"All due respect, m'lord, I have." Rumpelstiltskin sat calmly at the head of the table. The chipped cup he had so longed for was steaming beside him with tea. "My wife and daughter are here now because of the bravery of the people on my ship—"

"But for how long?" Maurice bellowed. "When can we expect another attack?" He pointed to Rumpelstiltskin. "If it's you they're trying to hurt, I'd gladly throw you before their feet to keep my family safe."

"As would I! A hundred times!"

"Stop it!" Belle yelled. "This is my fault!"

The men looked at Belle. She was dressed beautifully in a crimson gown, her hair done up and adorned with jewels, but her guilty face made her look less like a noble and more like a scared child.

"I know why they Rose," she said, lowering her voice. "She's special."

"Special?" Maurice said.

"What do you mean?" Rumpelstiltskin stood and went to his wife's side, his bewildered eyes searching her for answers.

"The Blue Fairy came to me long ago. She told me I would have a child with a special gift."

"This is absurd!" Maurice yelled.

Rumpelstiltskin took his wife's shoulders gently. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked.

Tears sprang to Belle's eyes. "I-I don't know. I was afraid . . . I thought—"

"She couldn't tell you," a soft voice said. From across the table, a blue light appeared, growing larger like a star, then fading into a small fairy with mocha skin and a blue dress. Ruehl Gorm.

"What's _she_ doing here?" Rumpelstiltskin asked to no one in particular.

"You wife was correct in not telling you," the Blue Fairy said, flying closer to them.

"_Correct_?" Rumpel repeated. "Men died trying to protect this baby!"

"And many more will," the fairy said. She looked around, at Maurice and Belle and Rumpelstiltskin and even the lord's men. "The men in black armor call themselves The Guild. They're loyalists to the Dark One."

"But we've locked him up!" Maurice said. "How can they—"

"They're servants of darkness. They believe the Dark One will rise again and take power. That's why they want the baby." The Blue Fairy looked at Rumpelstiltskin and Belle. "Your child is a doorway to other lands. She has the ability to transport herself across time and space. The Guild wants to groom your child to use her magic for evil, to take over the Enchanted Forest."

"Why her?" Belle cried. "Why is this happening?"

The Blue Fairy paused, her wand in hand, staring sadly at Belle. "It's what always had to happen."

Lord Maurice sat at the table, the weight of the fairy's news too much for him to handle. Rumpelstiltskin stared off into nothingness, calculating the Blue Fairy's words.

"So we . . . we find The Guild and we destroy them," he said.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," the Blue Fairy said. "The Guild's numbers are countless. They have eyes and ears everywhere—they live in darkness and shadows. They will keep coming after you and your baby no matter what."

"Then what do we do?" Belle asked.

"There _is_ one solution," Ruehl Gorm said.

"Anything," Rumpelstiltskin said. "We'll do anything."

The Blue Fairy sighed. "You have to give up your child."

**To be continued **


	4. Prophecy

Ch. 4

Glissa was listening in from the butler's pantry, a small nook that led to a staircase down to the scullery. The door of the pantry was cracked open slightly and she peered in at the dining hall, at the Blue Fairy who hovered so nonchalantly over the table. She had been in awe at first, smiling slightly at the beautiful creature, but with her ominous warning—that Miss Belle would have to give up little Rose _or else_—Glissa put a hand over her mouth to cover a disgusted gasp.

"Get out." Rumpelstiltskin said to the fairy.

"There's no other way," she insisted.

"_Get out_!" he yelled once more, his voice booming throughout the hall.

"How can you suggest such a thing?" Maurice said. "It's insanity!"

"I gave up one child before, I will _not_ do it again!" Rumpelstiltskin said.

"Then the child will be lost," the Blue Fairy said, her voice getting more desperate with each breath. "She will be safe in this new land, you have my word. The child will return on her sixteenth birthday and the kingdom will—"

"Sixteen years?" Belle cried. "She'll be away from us for sixteen _years_?"

Glissa felt a tap on her shoulder. Maureen, an elderly maid from the kitchen, was beckoning her. "What're you doing up here, lass?" She tugged on Glissa's arm and led the young woman downstairs to the scullery.

"They want to take away the baby!" Glissa whispered.

"Nonsense," Maureen said as they wound down the spiral stairs. "The Lord and Lady would never let that child out of their sight."

Glissa begrudgingly followed the old maid into the sweltering scullery, where at least ten women were preparing that night's dinner of wild turkey, custard, potatoes, and baskets of green vegetables. Glissa wondered if Miss Belle and her husband would even have an appetite tonight after the Blue Fairy's grave news.

The other young maids were curious about what Glissa had heard. She told them of the Fairy's portent and the women gathered around her curiously, asking questions as they shucked corn and plucked fowl.

"Was she a _real_ fairy?" red-headed Annika inquired.

"What are the master and Miss Belle going to do?" Gaenor asked as she busily washed fruit for the baked tarts.

Young Briony, who was Maureen's only daughter and just on the cusp of sixteen, tugged on Glissa's sleeve. "You don't think The Guild will really come to the castle, do you?" she asked, her gray eyes wide and troubled.

"I don't know," Glissa said. "If the Blue Fairy is right—"

"The Blue Fairy is full of stuff," Maureen said loudly. She threw a copper pot into the stone sink for washing, the metal clanging loudly and causing the ladies to jump. "She's just trying to frighten us. Ain't nothing of it, lasses."

"But Mum—"

"Get back to work, Briony," Maureen commanded. "And that goes for the rest of you!"

The ladies dispersed, whispering amongst themselves. Briony stayed behind and murmured in Glissa's ear, "What if the fairy is right? What if The Guild comes here?"

"Don't worry," Glissa whispered back. "The guards will keep us safe."

0000000

After dinner, Glissa went upstairs to the nursery and saw Miss Belle in the rocking chair, holding her child and staring out the window. Glissa couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like the young mother had been crying.

"Miss?" Glissa asked, entering the room. "Are you all right?"

Belle turned her head and Glissa could see that, yes, the Lady of the house had spilled tears. The baby slept silently. "Glissa, I'm scared."

The maid went to Belle and knelt beside her. "Don't worry, miss. Rumpelstiltskin will protect little Rosie."

"It's not just that," Belle said. She looked down at her daughter. "What if we _do_ let Rose go? What if I don't see her again for another sixteen years?"

"That won't happen—"

"I'll miss everything!" Belle cried, her voice a strained whisper. "Her first words, her first steps, the first dance she ever takes—"

"Belle, stop!" It was the first time Glissa had used the Lady's common name since before she was married to Rumpelstiltskin. "The child is safe. Any man here would gladly lay their life down for her."

Belle shook her head. "I don't want that burden. To decide whether men live or die on account of my child . . ." She looked down at little Rosie again. "It's too much."

Glissa lowered her eyes. "What did the fairy say, exactly? Where would the child go? How would she even get there?"

Belle stared sadly out the window. "Through water. All she said was that Rose would exit through the spring and return in the summer."

Glissa stared at the child. It was all so cryptic, so mysterious. The baby looked as ordinary as any other child in her mother's arms—small and warm and content. Golden light or no, Glissa could hardly believe little Rosie was capable of anything other than a burp or a smile.

A hand rapped on the door. Glissa turned and Rumpelstiltskin was in the doorway, his eyes weary and his face twisted in concern. Glissa stood and bowed respectfully. "M'lord."

Rumpelstiltskin looked at his wife, then back at the maid. "Can you give us a moment, please?"

"Yes, Sire." Glissa gave Belle one last reassuring smile, then left the room for the maid's chambers.

Belle stood as her husband neared her. "Well?"

"We still have Maurice's guards watching the castle, but the men in town were reluctant to join."

"Just as well," Belle said bitterly. "Less lives to put on the line."

Rumpelstiltskin sighed. "Darling, The Guild will not penetrate this castle."

"You don't know that, okay? You can't say that!"

"I know it," Rumpel said, taking his wife's shoulders, "because I've ordered it. Others might not want to help me, but they want to help you and the baby. They're loyal to you. They'll risk their lives for the baby, not because they're ordered to, but because it's the _right_ thing to do."

Tears welled in Belle's eyes. The baby squirmed in her arms and gave a howl. "I cannot lose her," she whispered. "Not now."

Rumpelstiltskin pulled Belle into an embrace, the child between them kicking up a fuss. He kissed her head and stroked Rosie's hair. "Nothing will happen. I promise you."

Belle sniffled and looked up at her husband. " 'Exit through spring and return in the summer.' It was prophesied."

"Prophesies change."

Belle looked at her daughter. "I hope you're right."

0000000

By nightfall, the entire castle had heard of the Blue Fairy's prediction through word-of-mouth and whispers throughout the corridors. The maids, especially young Briony, fretted at the omen and kept a watchful eye on the guards as they did their chores. Calden had volunteered for the night's watch, decked in the silver armor of Lord Maurice's knights, and stood at the watch tower of the castle by the gates. Glissa brought him a draught of wine in a sheepskin canteen for the cold.

While Miss Belle was bathing and Rumpelstiltskin was speaking with Lord Maurice in the great hall by the fire, Glissa tended to Rose. She swaddled her in fine silk blankets with her name embroidered in red and tickled her chin. The child was the spitting image of Belle already, with bright blue eyes and a sharp nose. Glissa played with the opal ring on her finger as she wiped the baby's face with a cool cloth. The flecks of color in the white stone shined brightly in the candle light.

A sudden pinprick of terror gripped Glissa's heart, an image of the child lost and alone in another world. If there was even a kernel of truth in the fairy's words, then perhaps Rose really was destined to be taken to a new land, to return on her sixteenth birthday with no knowledge of her mother or father. Sadness washed over her heart like the ebb and flow of an unruly tide.

Glissa went to Belle's vanity desk. In her marble jewelry box, there were rings and long chains of gold that Rumpelstiltskin had spun for her. Glissa took a chain that she new Miss Belle wouldn't miss and unclasped it. She took her opal ring off and slid it through the chain.

The baby fussed on her changing table and Glissa hovered over her with the necklace. She put it over the child's small head and tucked the ring in her blankets. "There, little Rose," she whispered. "It'll give you courage."

The baby gurgled in response.

0000000

The next morning, it seemed the entire castle was fatigued from a night of restless sleep. Everyone wondered if and when The Guild would strike, and when morning came without interruptions, a collective sigh of relief was exhaled.

Glissa followed Briony and Maureen to the spring a few yards down the hill from the castle. There was a bushel of blueberries around the spring, a small waterfall babbling fresh water and tall pines surrounding them, filling the air with a fresh, clean scent. Briony had discovered the spring when she first came to the castle a few days ago, but only told a select few about the beautiful oasis.

Maureen washed clothes on the rocks of the water as Briony and Glissa collected berries in wicker baskets. The sun shone brightly through the trees and birds sang lovely tunes for their mates. In a place as gorgeous as this, Glissa wondered how anything bad could ever happen.

"How is the master and Miss Belle doing?" Briony asked.

"As fine as to be expected," Glissa said from the other side of the bush. "The master won't let that poor child out of his sight."

"As he shouldn't," Maureen said from the water's edge.

Briony rounded the blueberry bush and put the basket on her hip. "Mum, I thought you didn't believe in the fairy's words?"

"Aye, love." Maureen wiped her sweating brow with the back of her hand. "But if there was a chance someone might want to take _you_ away, I'd hold you close, as well."

Briony smiled and looked over her shoulder at Glissa. "Mum's not as hard as she looks, eh?"

"You're lucky," Glissa said. "Wish I had someone who cared about me as much."

"You've got Calden," Briony said, turning back to the blueberry bush. She leaned in and whispered to Glissa, "Heard the men of the night watch speaking this morning. Said Calden might propose soon."

Glissa looked at her friend, her eyes wide. "They said that?"

"Aye. Gave him grief for it, too. But he don't care." Briony touched Glissa's arm. "He loves you, Gliss. _You're_ the lucky one."

Glissa smiled and nudged Briony. They continued picking berries, filling their baskets with the seemingly endless supply of fruit. After a while, when Maureen finished washing her clothes and started to wring them out, she said casually,

"Wonder what that means . . . 'exit in the spring.'"

Glissa turned her head and looked at the old maid. "What?"

"The fairy's words. Heard the other girls talking about it . . . 'Exit in the spring and return in the summer.' Whatch ya think that means?"

Glissa's eyes slowly traveled to Briony to gauge her reaction. "I don't know," she admitted softly. "It's all gibberish to me."

Briony set her basket down and rolled up her sleeves. "I think the fairy was wrong," she said. "If The Guild wanted the baby, they would have taken her by now."

"Hold your tongue!" Glissa yelled.

Maureen and her daughter looked at Glissa, who never raised her voice above a whisper in the time they had known her.

"Beg pardon," Briony said. "I was just saying—"

"Don't 'just say' anything," Glissa snapped. "The master and his wife are torn up about all of this. Imagine they wanted _you_, instead."

This made Briony quiet. She lowered her head, embarrassed, and picked up her basket of berries. "Sorry." She turned from the bush and followed the trail back to the castle.

Glissa watched her, guilt piercing her heart, and nearly called out to apologize.

Maureen gathered her bundle of wet laundry and slung it over her back. "You'll do good not to talk about my daughter like that," she said to Glissa. "I've already lost her father. I don't know what I'd do if I lost her."

Glissa pursed her lips and picked her wicker basket up from the ground. She followed Maureen back to the castle silently. In the scullery, the maid's were whispering excitedly amongst each other.

"What's going on?" Glissa asked.

"There are more guests here for dinner," Annika said. "Snow White and Prince Charming have just arrived!"

**To be continued**


	5. Exit In the Spring

Ch. 5

King James met Rumpelstilskin and Belle in the great hall where Lord Maurice liked to call meetings as of late. He may have had seniority over the rest of the household, but he bowed respectfully to King James and his wife, Snow.

"My Lord," Maurice said, rising from bended knee.

But James' attention was on Rumpelstiltskin. He looked at him with a mixture of confusion and contempt. When he saw the baby in Belle's arms, his face softened. "Is that her?" he asked.

"That's _my_ daughter," Rumpelstiltskin said. He looked at Snow White and bowed curtly. "Your Majesty."

Snow put a hand over her pregnant belly. She looked as radiant as she did on her wedding day—white gown, flowers in her hair, rosy cheeks—but she had the same look in her eye as Belle . . . fear for her child's safety. "We come with news," Snow said.

Rumpelstiltskin stared at King James with trepidation. He was still a wanted man in many kingdoms, even in Snow's, and wondered if he wasn't about to be taken to a wagon outside with bars and chains. He motion to the tall chairs around the dining table.

"Please sit."

The king and his wife sat on one side of the long table, Rumpel and Belle at the other. Lord Maurice sat at the head, hands crossed. "You've heard of the Blue Fairy's warning," the old man said.

"Yes," Snow White nodded. "The forest has been buzzing." She looked at Belle. "Is it true?"

Belle nodded slowly and looked down at her sleeping daughter. "She said I have to give Rose away."

"Rose?" Snow White grinned sadly. "That's a lovely name."

"I know I have a past with you," Rumpel said to the king. "But we need your help. Not for my sake, but for my daughter's."

King James raised a brow and glanced at his wife. He seemed skeptical that the former Dark One had changed at all, even with his powers stripped, but Rumpelstiltskin hoped they could see eye-to-eye as fathers instead of adversaries. King James sat back in his chair and sighed, ruffling the fur collar around his neck. "What will happen if The Guild takes your child?" he asked.

"She'll be used for darkness," Rumpel said. "The Guild wants to reinstate the Dark One as ruler of the Enchanted Forest."

"But he's locked away," Snow White said. "We put extra guards in the cave he's held in—"

"That may not be enough," Rumpelstiltskin said.

The baby fussed in Belle's arms and she rocked her gently.

"You'll have my army at your disposal," James said. He looked at Rosie, then back at Rumpelstiltskin. "For the sake of the baby."

"Thank you," Rumpelstiltskin said.

"The animals of the forest have seen men in black armor stalking our castle," Snow White said. "The Guild must be canvassing the land, in case you and your family try to escape."

"Have there been any incidents?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"There wouldn't be," Belle murmured. "They're not after _them_."

Snow White looked at the young mother. Even with her youth and beauty and precious child, there was already so much sadness, so much concern in Belle's face. It broke Snow's heart just imagining what she was going through.

"Our army is on the move," Snow said reassuringly to Belle. "Your child will be safe."

Belle finally raised her eyes from her daughter and looked at the queen. "Yes, Your Majesty." Belle stood with little Rosie. "I'm going to lie down," she said wearily. "Wake me for dinner."

The men stood courteously for her, then sat back down when she was out of the room. Rumpelstiltskin rubbed his brow. He was tired from restless nights of worrying, tired from his wife's crying, that he couldn't do anything to help ease her concern. Most of all, Rumpelstiltskin was tired of imagining the fairy's prediction coming true. He looked at the kind and said, "Care for a drink, Your Highness?"

King James accepted graciously.

0000000

The King and his wife were expected to stay at the castle for a fortnight, their guards remaining indefinitely until they knew Rosie was out of danger. Glissa was in the scullery with the other maids, preparing dinner for that night and chatting excitedly about the arrival of Snow White and Charming.

"_Charming's_ the word," Annika said with a wink. "He's a looker, that one."

"I hear the queen's craving boiled cabbages," Maureen said as she peeled potatoes. "You know what _that_ means."

"Oh, it's a boy!" Gaenor squealed. Her blonde hair was falling in tufts from her headscarf and she pushed the strands away from her eyes.

"No, that means it's a girl!" Annika laughed.

Glissa glanced over at Briony, who was plucking a chicken in the wash basin. They hadn't talked since the blueberry patch, and Glissa was itching to make amends. "Briony, can I—"

"Mum, do you need help with those potatoes?" Briony asked, ignoring Glissa.

"Nah, but if that chicken don't get plucked, I'll be peeling your hide, missy."

Briony's green eyes flickered to Glissa, then darted away. She turned back to the wash basin and tore the feathers out of the fowl as if it had called her a bad name.

"When you're done, though," Maureen said to her daughter, "can you get some wood for the stove?"

Briony groaned. "Mum, can't the gardener do it?"

"It's just a small pile by the horse's stable," Maureen snapped. "Won't take you two seconds."

Briony sighed, her fingers wert with blood and feathers sticking to her skin. Glissa abandoned her garlic-pressing and went to Briony. "I can finish that, if you want."

Briony glanced at Glissa, then back at the chicken. She raised a brow, not quite ready to forgive. Still, gathering wood was a chore that anyone would have chosen above feather-plucking, so she nodded.

"All right. I'll be back soon."

Glissa smiled weakly and Briony gave her a reassuring nod. It wasn't a pardon, but it was a start.

0000000

As the men sat around the fire with drinks, discussing war and weapons and all the dastardly things that came with it, Snow White took a tour of the halls on the second floor. It was not a place she imagined the former Dark One living in—bright colors, with sunlight and landscape paintings—but his wife must have had a positive influence on him. She was, in the few, brief times they had met, a perfectly charming young woman.

Snow stopped outside a large door when she heard someone crying. She peered in through the open crack and saw the silhouette of Belle sitting the by window next to a baby cradle. Snow opened the door wider and saw that, yes, the young mother was weeping.

"Belle? Are you all right?"

Belle quickly looked to the door and wiped her eyes. "Oh. I-I'm so sorry—" She stood hastily out of respect, but Snow put up a hand.

"Please, sit down." She crossed the room and sat at the foot of the bed. "You poor thing . . ."

Belle sniffled and rocked the cradle where her child slept. "I'm sorry, I . . . I wasn't expecting you and the king, and . . . and the baby's kept me up all night and I'm so tired—"

"Shh," Snow whispered. "You don't have to explain. You'd be inhuman if you didn't feel exhausted." Snow stood and hovered over the cradle. "I'll rock her. Why don't you lie down?"

Belle nodded. She switched places with the queen, offering her the seat by the window, and then lying in bed with a pillow clutched in her arms. "I haven't had a full night's sleep since before the baby was born."

Snow chuckled as she rocked little Rosie. "Something I can look forward to?"

Belle smiled faintly. Her eyes misted over with more tears and she tried in vain to blink them away. She stared out the window to keep her vision focused. "What would you do?" she asked the queen. "If you were in my position?"

Snow White sighed and patted her large belly. "I don't know. I think I'd be a complete mess." Snow looked over her shoulder at the weary Belle. "I would no sooner expect you to give up your own child, then I would mine."

Belle nodded, her eyelids getting heavier. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

Snow smiled. "My husband is convinced it's a boy. I think it's a girl."

"What will you name her?"

Snow rubbed her belly, her smile growing. "Emma." She turned her head to Belle, but the young mother was sleeping. Snow White looked down at the sleeping baby, so small and pink and warm. Rosie had a necklace tucked in her blanket, and Snow lifted the embroidered silk and pulled out an opal ring. She fingered the gem curiously.

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the windows of the castle. Snow dropped the ring and stood from her chair, the weight of the baby making her dizzy. She looked at Belle, but the woman was still sound asleep. Another blood-curdling scream echoed from outside.

Snow ran to the door as fast as her large belly would allow. A few guards ran down the corridor and she stopped them. "What's going on?"

"Stay in your room, Highness," a guard said.

As the two men rushed off, Snow picked up her skirts and followed their general direction, towards the continuing screaming. She ducked into a room in the west wing, a drawing room with yellow curtains, and peered out the window towards the stables.

An older woman was screaming and struggling to be let go from a pair of guards who held her back. Near the stable, next to a large stack of chopped wood, a young girl with blonde hair lay in the grass, her throat slit from ear-to-ear.

"That's my daughter!" the older woman cried, her voice loud enough for the whole kingdom to hear. "That's my daughter over there!"

Snow put a hand to her mouth in shock. More men came, including Rumpelstiltskin and James. The girl's body was covered with a blanket and the old maid rushed at the master of the house, clawing at his viciously.

"You did this!" she screamed. "You killed my daughter!"

The guards held her back with barely a hair between them. Another young maid came running from the castle, young with sandy-blonde hair, and tried to quell the bereaved woman. Snow hurried out of the room and down the stairs to the main foyer. Maids stood frozen, whispering to themselves as the new of the death spread like wildfire. A guard of Lord Maurice's appeared from the spinning room and took Snow's arm.

"Your Highness, it's not safe—"

"What's happened?" Snow cried.

"Please come with me." The tall, dark-haired man ushered Snow to a sitting room nearby.

Snow sat impatiently by the door, wringing her hands and waiting for more news.

Outside, by the stables, a watchman who had seen everything was giving a report to Rumpelstiltskin and King James. The old maid, Maureen, had to be carried back to the castle, kicking and screaming. Glissa followed closely, horror shaking her to the bone.

"Her name's Briony," the freckled, red-headed watchman said. "I was at m'post in the watchtower. Saw her come to the stables through the servant's back door to get wood."

"How did this happen?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

The guard, who looked barely fifteen, sniffled and tried to hold back his tears. "Sh-she was just getting some logs . . . bent down and . . . there was this shadow. Like a shadow a tree makes, except it was of a man. A man in black armor."

Rumpel and King James looked at each other. "The Guild," James said.

The watchman failed to keep a brave face and wiped the tears from his eyes. "It was so quick, I couldn't even sound the bell. He came out of nowhere and slit her throat. Just cut it like it was nothing—"

"Did the man say anything to her?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

The boy shrugged. "I saw him whisper, but couldn't make it out. Then he just disappeared behind the stable—"

"Call the guards!" Rumpel yelled to his men. "Search the perimeter." He turned to King James. "Gather your men. Have them surround the castle."

James nodded. With that, the two men jumped into action, calling for their respective men.

Maureen was brought through the servant's quarters to her bedchamber. Glissa wrapped her arm around the woman's trembling shoulders and bid the guards to leave them alone. Away from the eyesight of the king and her master, Glissa finally broke down and fell to her knees.

"Briony . . . no—"

"Oh, my daughter!" Maureen wailed, falling onto the bed.

"How did this happen?" Glissa cried. "She was only gone for a moment—"

"My baby, my little girl . . ." Maureen beat her fist against the mattress, weeping like a rain-drenched wind on the moor.

"Why?" Glissa whispered. "Why her?"

"The Guild," Maureen sobbed. "They killed her . . . Rumpelstiltskin let her die!"

Glissa stood and went to Maureen on the bed. "This isn't his fault—"

"THEY BROUGHT HER HERE!" Maureen yelled. She looked at Glissa with all the rage of a stormy ocean, her face red, her eyes bulging with passion. She reminded Glissa of a witch she once saw in a story book. "They brought this baby here and made us all targets for these unholy knights!"

"Maureen—"

The old maid stood and Glissa tried to hold her arm back. Maureen ripped herself away from the young girl, threw her hand back, and hit Glissa over the face. The hurricane-like blow knocked Glissa to the floor, out cold.

Maureen fled out the door quickly. She took the servant's back stairs to the second floor, making a red-hot trail to Belle's room where Rosie and her mother slept.

0000000

Belle awoke to someone putting a cold cloth over her nose and mouth. She thought she was dreaming at first, but when the hand pressed down, she opened her eyes and struggled to get away.

"Shh," a woman's voice said. "It's just a little jovert powder."

Belle squinted and could see that it was Maureen, the scullery maid. Her gray hair was wild, her face bright pink and her brown eyes manic. The cloth smelled like animal fat and dying roses. Jovert power was an opiate used in tea for sleeplessness. A teaspoon could make someone sleep through the night—any more could knock someone out for days.

Belle tried to pry Maureen's hands from her mouth, but was already feeling the effects of the powder. Her heart rate slowed down, her fingers became numb, and the last thing she saw before she blacked out was the cradle her crying daughter lay in.

0000000

The guards found Glissa soon after Maureen had fled. Calden was among them, adorned in his armor for the watch, and drew his blade when he saw blood on Glissa's lips. "What happened?" he asked, helping her to her feet.

"Maureen," Glissa touched her wounded lip. "Her daughter—"

"Which way did she go?" an older guard asked.

"I-I don't know—"

"We have to find her," Calden said. He turned to the other two guards. "Search the castle."

"Cal, please! She's just lost her daughter, she's upset—"

"She tried to hurt Rumpelstiltskin," Calden said. "She's a danger to this house."

The word 'danger' flashed in Glissa head and suddenly everything—Briony's death, Maureen's anger, the mysterious way the man in black armor appeared—raised a red flag in the young maid's brain.

"Where's Miss Belle?" she asked.

0000000

Tired of waiting for answers, Snow left the sitting room and walked through the corridors to the grand staircase. The maids had gone back to working but guards still roamed the halls, looking for a post. She called out for her husband, but was met with only the echo of her own voice.

Snow climbed the stairs to the second floor. She wondered if Belle had been wakened by the commotion throughout the house, if little Rosie was being tended to by someone. She rounded the corner, past the ornate stained-glass windows of roses and mountains, and opened the door to Belle's room.

The cradle had been overturned, the child missing. Belle was on the bed, breathing steadily but lifeless as a corpse. Snow rushed to the young woman and checked for a pulse. There was life, but barely.

"Help!" Snow cried. "Someone help us!"

Snow stood and frantically looked around the room. Maybe someone had hidden the child in all the flutter? Maybe Rumpelstiltskin had taken her and was keeping her safe by his side? But then why would he leave Belle—?

"Someone please help!"

Two guards and a young maid burst into the room. Glissa shrieked when she saw the empty, upturned cradle. "What happened? Where's the baby?"

But Snow and the guards were more focused on Belle. Calden took the washbasin from the vanity table and splashed water on the Lady's face. She didn't so much as wince.

The older guards knelt to the floor and picked up a wet rag that was lying under the bed. He gave it a whiff and pulled it away from his face. "Jovert powder. Someone drugged her."

"Maureen," Glissa said. Snow White and the guards turned to her. "She took the baby."

"But why?" Calden asked.

Glissa bit her thumb nail, her heart thudding in her chest. Guilt washed over her and she stared at the cradle as if it might tell her the reason. Maureen was upset, this much was true. She lost her only daughter . . . but what could an old maid do with a baby that was doomed to darkness by The Guild?

Unless . . .

"Exit in the spring," Glissa whispered.

"What?" Snow asked.

Glissa looked at the queen. "I know where she's going."

0000000

The sun was setting now, the western sky as red and heavy as the blood that had gushed out of Briony's neck. Maureen had managed to slip past the guards by tucking Rose into a basket of lettuce from the kitchen, telling them Miss Belle was hurt inside. Thank God the baby was sleeping silently.

It was only on their way to the spring did the child start to cry. Maureen removed the lettuce from the basket and threw it along the trail for the birds. The baby looked right at home in the wicker basket, swaddled in her embroidered silk blanket that Glissa had stitched her name into. Rose gave a wail and Maureen shushed her.

"It's okay, little one. I'm taking you someplace safe."

When they reached the spring, Maureen searched all along the bank for a door or a hole or something that would suggest an escape. The Blue Fairy had said it herself—'exit in the spring.' Unless Maureen was getting her riddles mixed up (fat chance, since she was ace at all the hard ones), this was the place the baby had to be.

Maureen set the basket down next to the blueberry patch and took little Rosie in her arms. "Okay, love. Okay." She remembered how Briony used to cry like this when she was a babe, didn't stop for hours even after being fed. Maureen's eyes welled with tears but she willed them away.

The old maid looked around the babbling spring—the clear, cool water as it trickled down the small waterfall, the wildflowers growing along the edges like an angel's halo. The harder Maureen looked at the water, the more it seemed to glow.

_Just a hallucination_, Maureen thought. _Too grief-stricken to know what's real. Maybe I should turn back—_

But it really _was_ glowing. A golden mist rose from the spring, as light as snow at first, then darker and heavier the closer Maureen stepped towards it. She looked down at the baby and Rosie had stopped crying. This was their doorway.

Maureen stepped into the cold water. It was a welcoming feeling, an icy bandage over the red-hot anger she felt over Briony's death. She waded until she was waist-deep, the child over her shoulder. The mist surrounded them, enveloped them like warm sunshine, and just as Maureen turned her head to see Glissa and a few guards coming down the hill, the water pulled her and Rosie in, swallowing them like a beast with liquid teeth.

**END OF PART 1**


	6. Sixteen Years Later

Ch. 6

**16 years later**

The Murkowski twins were at it again. They were tall and gangly boys, with ash-blond hair and eyes so brown, they were almost black. They followed Rosie McLemmons as she went down the front steps of Santa Monica East High.

"Ring around the rosie . . ."

It was the same rhyme they teased her with since she started at that school three months ago. Rosie ignored them, holding her head up high. She instinctively clutched at the opal ring on her necklace, the only thing that gave her courage in times of distress.

"Pocket full of posies . . ."

Jamie, the slightly taller twin, chuckled and punched his brother, Jasper, in the arm.

"Ashes, ashes . . ."

As Rose neared the last step, the throng of other high schoolers pushing her along, she felt a pair of hands on her back.

"We all fall DOWN!"

Suddenly, she was pushed to her stomach, tripping on the last step and hurdling to the cement sidewalk. No one stopped to help or ask if she was okay. Rosie turned on her back and glowered at the twins. They laughed and high-fived each other.

"I hope you both get ass cancer!" she spat.

"Freak!" Jamie yelled. He and his brother ran off towards the corral of yellow buses.

Rosie groaned and struggled to her feet, feeling like an upturned turtle with her heavy backpack. She saw her friend Maggie coming down the sidewalk from the parking lot and jumped to her feet before the pretty redhead could help her.

"You okay, sweetie?" Mags asked.

"Yeah." Rosie brushed her long black hair from her face and hitched her backpack further up her shoulders. "Just another day in paradise."

Maggie took Rosie's arm and they walked down the street together. "I don't get why they pick on you. You're gorgeous."

"I'm a freak," Rosie said. "Everyone knows that." There was no bitterness to her tone or even sadness. Rosie had grown to live with this fact for a very long time now—that she was different from the other kids at her school, that she was too quiet and too secretive and she spoke too differently for anyone's liking.

"I wish I could be emancipated like you," Rose continued.

"You gotta have parents for that, Rose." Maggie stopped and put a hand to her freckled face. "Jeeze. I'm sorry, that was real shitty of me."

"It's fine." Rosie shrugged."It's true."

The two teenagers walked down the boulevard and stopped at Baskins Corner Market. It was Friday, which meant Maggie had to get surf wax for her boyfriend's board. Rosie usually picked up a magazine and some jelly beans for her foster sister, Tara.

"Your birthday's in a few days," Maggie said as she scanned the shelf of surf wax. "What do you want?"

"A home."

Rosie rolled her blue eyes, but there was a sad truth in her sarcasm. She had been to at least fifteen foster homes since she was two, and none of them lasted more than a year. It only added to Rosie's suspicion that she really _was_ different. In the foster circuit, she should have been the Chanel handbags of children—decent grades, no criminal history, kept to herself—but all her foster parents saw something in her that they didn't like. It burned Rosie to know what it was.

Rose turned to her friend, who had picked out a sizeable jar of Bubble Gum Surfwax. "Why can't I live with you and Bug?"

Maggie snorted a laugh. She may have lived like an adult, but her laugh always gave her away as a high school junior. "You don't want to live with Bug. He snores."

Bug was Maggie's boyfriend. He was twenty, taught surf lessons for tourists, and occasionally smoked pot on the weekends. He called Rosie "princess" and grilled fish every Saturday for her and Maggie. He was the sweetest man Rosie had ever known.

"How 'bout some more art supplies?" Maggie asked as they perused the magazine rack.

"I guess I could use a new sketchbook . . ."

Rosie stopped in front of a rack of sunglasses and tried a pair on. Her skin was pale, despite years of California sun, and she needed a new bra for her growing B-cup. She hated how her shoulders stuck out and how flat her butt was, but compared to the clone-like Barbie dolls at her high school, Rosie was an exotic Byzantine princess.

_Maybe it's my eyes_, Rosie thought, wondering why everyone at school called her a freak. _They're too far apart._

"C'mon," Maggie tugged Rose towards the cash register.

Rosie flashed a small grin at the cashier and the old man raised a brow. _Is it my teeth?_ She thought. _They're a little crooked_ _on the bottom._ . .

Rosie kept her head down as she paid for Tara's jelly beans. She and Maggie left the store and crossed the street to the business district. It was almost Spring Break and already buses were shuffling in from LA with tourists in bikinis.

"I saw this thing on the news last night," Rose said to Maggie. "This guy in Albania was adopted and when he was twelve, his killed his whole family."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. The authorities said his birth father was also a serial killer." Rosie huffed as she struggled to catch up to her friend. Maggie had longer legs and walked faster than she did. "Do you think that's possible?"

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

"No, I mean . . . do you think that kind of thing is hereditary? I mean, maybe that's why no one at school likes me. Maybe my dad was a serial killer, and I give them the creeps because—"

"It's still bullshit," Maggie said. "The other kids are immature douche-canoes."

Rosie laughed. She could always count on her friend to keep her grounded. Still, it didn't keep Rosie from tossing and turning at night, wondering who she really was and where her family had gone to. They came to a block of houses, Rosie's neighborhood, and Maggie stopped.

"Birthday dinner on Sunday? I'll make cobbler."

Rosie nodded and smiled. "Sure." She turned for her house and Maggie called to her.

"You're gonna find your birth parents someday," Mags said. "And they'll be millionaires with a hot tub and a Ferrari for your birthday."

Rosie chuckled. "Yeah, right. I'll see you." She waved and Maggie waved back, turning down the block to the shore where her and Bug's bungalow awaited.

Rose walked the block-and-a-half to her house, a little maroon rambler with crooked front steps, and stopped dead when she saw the car parked in the driveway. It was a blue Lincoln with a dented bumper, a regular Porsche in this kind of neighborhood.

The front door opened and Rose's foster mother, Linda, leaned in the frame. "You got a visitor."

Rosie clutched her backpack tighter, her heart seizing in her chest. She walked up to the house and Linda stared at her sadly the whole time, her nurse's scrubs stained with blood droplets and mustard. She smelled like cigarette's and Rosie knew she had had a bad day.

Instead of throwing her backpack down like she did every day, Rosie followed the sound of the TV to the living room, where a woman in a black suit sat cross-legged. Tara was next to her, doing a princess puzzle with her kinky hair puffed up in an afro. She smiled and stood when she saw Rose.

"Rosie! Did you get jelly beans?"

Rosie hugged the seven-year-old and pulled the bag of candy from her backpack. "Don't eat them all before dinner."

"Thanks!"

"Why don't you wait for me in our room?" Rosie said.

"Okay." Tara gave her a gap-toothed smile and skipped down the hallway.

Rosie turned to the woman on the couch and crossed her arms. "What did I do now?"

The woman stood. "You didn't do anything, Rosie. Linda just thinks—"

"Please don't say it, Annie." Rosie closed her eyes to keep from crying. She had heard this tune for years now from all her previous foster parents—_it's just not working out, we just don't have the money to support you, you're just too old to be living here_—and nothing surprised Rose anymore.

Linda appeared from the hallway, dark circles under her eyes. She didn't even look at the teenager, only at the social worker, Annie Sullivan.

"I'm sorry, Rosie," Annie said, "you have to pack your things now."

Rose sniffed as more tears scratched her eyelids. "But I've been good," she said, barely whispering. "I haven't gotten into any trouble. Tell her, Linda—"

Linda's eyes went to the TV.

Rose looked at her social worker. "Please. It's almost my birthday."

Annie pursed her lips, looking as if she might cry herself, then said quietly, "Happy birthday."

0000000

Rosie cried as she packed her bags. Tara sat on the twin bed opposite of hers, their shared room divided by pink color schemes and posters of David Bowie. Tara ate her jelly beans as she watched her foster sister.

"Where are you going?" the child asked.

"Away," Rosie said, her voice cracking.

She didn't have much to take with her. Everything that wasn't stored at Maggie's could fit into a duffel bag—clothes, CDs, her sketchbooks and pencils. She left her posters on the wall and double-checked to make sure she had her yellow baby blanket with her name stitched into the corner, the only clue into her past. She held the blanket to her face and breathed in, hoping to catch a whiff of who she was and where she came from. But it only smelled like fabric softener and deodorant.

A knock came at the door. Annie peeked her head in. "Two minutes, Rosie."

Rose wiped the tears from her cheeks, stuffed the blanket in her duffel bag, and slung it over her shoulder. She knelt in front of Tara and said, "I have to go now. You're not going to see me again."

Tara jumped down and wrapped her arms around Rosie's neck. She squeezed hard, the bag of jelly beans holding fast in her hand. "I don't want you to go."

"I know." Rose sniffled and pulled away. "Save those jelly beans, okay?"

Tara nodded. She looked sad, but she wore no tears. She had no doubt seen worse in her life, with her mother shooting heroin in front of her and her daddy cutting her hair until her scalp bled. Still, Rose was hurt that the child didn't shed one tear for her.

Rosie looked to the door and Annie was watching them. Annie never cried when she came to take Rose back to the children's home. She had known Rosie since she was five, had shared in every triumph and heartache of growing up in the foster system, but she had never cried when Rose was to be sent back to the home.

Until today.

Rosie saw a glimmer, a flicker of light on Annie's cheek, and knew the middle-aged woman was shedding a tear. Annie wiped it away casually as if someone had blow cigarette smoke in her face.

"Ready, kiddo?"

Rosie nodded, grabbed her backpack, and followed her social worker out of the house.

**To be continued**


	7. The Water

**A/N: PCH stands for "Pacific Coast Highway." This chapter is in no way accurate in terms of homes for foster children, I'm just going off of what I've seen on TV and movies.**

* * *

Ch. 7

However bad Rose thought high school was, the Santa Monica Children's Home was even worse. Her tormenters at the home didn't need a reason to push her to the ground or spit on her food. They were all rejects like her, wide-eyed veterans of crackhead parents and abusive foster homes. Some, like Rosie, kept to themselves, huddled in their corners in the dining hall and reading out in the yard while white girls with cornrows eyed them snottily from their cliques.

Rosie had been in and out of the home all her life. She was used to the strict bedtimes, the random fights that erupted in the common rooms, the splatter of blood on the bathroom walls where girls would cut themselves or each other. Her roommate this time was a Latina girl named Celeste, with mocha skin and gorgeous wavy hair. She was new to the home and cried herself to sleep at night.

The day after she left Linda's, Rosie sat at a table in the yard as the other kids did homework or played cards or swapped insults. It was Saturday, which meant everyone was itching for a daytrip. Rose had her backpack laid across the wood picnic table, her art supplied spilled out before her. She sketched on the last page of her notebook (she really hoped Maggie was giving her a new sketchbook for her birthday), and stopped when a shadow crossed her page.

"What're you drawing?"

It was Celeste. She had been following Rosie around closely like a lost puppy. Rose erased a stray pencil line on her drawing and brushed the rubber crud away. She held up the picture to Celeste and the young girl, fourteen maybe, sat down next to her.

"She's pretty," Celeste said. "Who is she?"

Rosie looked at the picture and wish she knew. It was a face that bombarded her dreams, the face of a lovely woman with brown curls and blue eyes, who smiled so sweetly at Rose that she often woke up in tears. In some way, she felt connected to the face, but more than likely it was probably just someone she saw on the street once that stuck in her mind.

"I don't know who she is," Rosie said. "Probably no one."

Celeste nodded. She picked up one of Rosie's pencils and began drawing on the wooden table. "How long have you been here?"

Rosie shaded the nameless woman's hair and shrugged. "Off and on. What about you?"

"My mom died when I was born," Celeste said without hesitation. "Dad got shot by a rival gang. My grandma took care of me for a while, but she died."

Rosie lowered her pencil and looked over at Celeste. "I'm sorry."

Celeste shook her head. She drew a heart with an arrow going through it and said, "What about you? Got any family?"

"Somewhere." Rosie looked up, staring at the blank cement wall before her, then said, "When I was a baby, the police found me in a basket on the PCH. Some old woman was carrying me."

"Who was she?"

Rosie shrugged. "I don't know. They said she got hit by a car and died." The young girl touched the opal ring on her necklace. "I had my baby blanket and this necklace. It's the only thing from my past."

Celeste smiled warily. "Like in _Annie_."

Rose looked at her. "Huh?"

"Y'know, that movie _Annie_. She's got the locket from her parents. Maybe the ring is from your mom."

Rose looked down at her drawing of the mysterious beauty. "Maybe."

0000000

The Children's Home took a day trip to the beach, and while the other kids rode the roller coaster on the pier and shopped for sandals along the boardwalk, Rosie sat with Celeste along the shore, finishing her sketch and trading foster home horror stories.

Celeste had gotten a bag of popcorn from a vendor on the sidewalk and munched as she looked out at the ocean. She offered Rosie some, but the teenager shook her head.

"You're real quiet," Celeste said.

Rosie glanced at her new friend. "Sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. At least you're nice."

Rose smiled and held out her hand for some popcorn. Instead of giving her some, Celeste turned towards her new friend and made a motion to toss it in Rosie's mouth. Rose grinned and opened wide, but the popcorn kernel bounced off her lip and into her lap. The giggled as they practiced their aim, cheering when one finally landed in Celeste's mouth.

Some boys from the home— lanky, dark-haired boys with pimply faces—passed by the girls in their swim trunks. "Dykes!" One yelled.

"Piss off!" Rosie called back.

One of the boys, who had a scar on his chest, raised two fingers like a peace sign and stuck his tongue between them. "Sounds like someone needs a good dicking."

"Eat shit, douche-canoe!" Rosie spat, borrowing one of Maggie's words.

The boys laughed and ran into the ocean, splashing and kicking and pushing each other. Rosie looked at Celeste, who had her knees pulled up to her chest. Tears flooded her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Celeste sniffled and looked at Rose helplessly. "I, um . . . I-I'm actually—"

Rosie sat up straight, her face softening. "Are you—?" She stopped, looked towards the boys in the water, then whispered, "Are you really a lesbian?"

Celeste nodded.

Rose's eyebrows shot up. "Oh."

"Please don't tell anyone."

"No, I—"

"If you don't wanna hang out anymore, I totally understand—"

Rosie smiled and put her hand on Celeste's arm. "Celeste, it's fine. Really."

Celeste wiped her eyes. "Are you sure?"

Rose nodded. "This is California."

"Yeah, but I'm Puerto Rican," Celeste said with a laugh.

Rosie nudged her and laughed. She looked at the boys as they jumped around obnoxiously, calling each other "bitch" and "faggot" and Rosie rolled her eyes. "Whatever happened to chivalry?" she asked. "Guys used to bow when they passed a girl. They were respectful, y'know?"

"Doesn't sound like any guy _I've_ ever met."

"Maybe I was born in the wrong time," Rose mumbled. She looked at Celeste, who still had sadness in her eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

Celeste nodded. "M'fine." She stood, tossed the rest of her popcorn in the trash, and brushed the sand from her jeans. "I'm gonna go to the boardwalk. Wanna come?"

Rosie shook her head. "Naw, I think I'll finish this." She tapped her pencil on her sketchpad. "Meet you on the pier in half an hour?"

"Sure." Celested smiled, waved, and made off up the beach to the sidewalk.

Rosie sighed and looked at her picture. The woman's large eyes stared back at her, a slight curl on her lips, as if she were looking at Rosie for the first time in a long time and was trying to hold back tears. The drawing was so familiar and yet so foreign, like the _telenovelas_ that played in the common rooms on TV—a language she knew but couldn't decipher.

Rose looked up at the lapping ocean. The boys were whispering and staring at Rosie, giggling when she sneered at them. Just beyond the boys, a sparkle caught Rose's eye. At first it looked like sunlight gleaming off the waves, but the harder Rose stared, the more the light grew, floating upwards in a golden haze. She stood, alarmed by the sight, and glanced at the boys. They horsed around directly in the path of the golden light, but none of them seemed to see it. Rosie rubbed her eyes and the light was gone.

"Hey, lesbo," the one with the scar called out. "You wanna see a _real_ man?" He stood in the shallow water and grabbed his crotch.

Rosie flipped him the bird and gathered her art supplies. She glanced at the water again to catch another look at the golden mist, but saw nothing. _Just the sun_, she thought, and headed towards the boardwalk.

0000000

That night, Celeste fell asleep soundly without so much as a whimper. Rose drifted off to sleep with the image of the golden light on the water by the pier. It was oddly mesmerizing, like staring at specks of dust in a sunbeam on a hot day, and whether or not it was an illusion was no concern to her.

Rosie dreamed of the woman in her drawing. She came to life in a whirl of golden mist—her brown curly hair, her beautiful blue eyes, her sharp nose and upturned mouth that seemed to smile at her. Rosie reached out a hand to touch the woman, to hug her and bury herself in her chest.

"Where did they take you?" the woman asked. Her Australian accent surprised Rosie.

Rose mouthed the word "what" but no sound escaped her lips.

Suddenly, the two were having tea together, at a fancy table in a castle with yellow tablecloths and a fine china set. "You have two options," the woman said casually. She drank from a chipped cup.

"It's broken," Rosie wanted to say, but she was voiceless.

The woman looked at the cup in her hands. "I like it that way."

A slippery, wet feeling cascaded down Rosie's forehead, like a million tongues licking her to taste her skin. She felt small and hollow, slowly pulling away from the table and the woman into darkness. Rose felt pinpricks all over her body, as if needles were punching holes in her flesh and someone was calling out to her and the tongues lapped harder on her skin and—

"Rosie!"

A hand slapped Rose's face and her eyes opened. She was lost, delirious, about to scream until she saw Celeste looking down at her. Water ran down Rose's face. She groped around and finally saw that she was in the shower of the girl's room. She was soaked head to toe, her pajamas clinging to her body.

"What's—"

Celeste turned the water off and helped Rosie out of the shower. "You were sleepwalking," she said. "Jesus, are you okay?"

At first, Rose flopped along the floor like a fish out of water, and when the last bits of sleep dissipated from her foggy brain, she stood and leaned on Celeste. "Where'd she go?" she asked.

"Who?" Celeste's wiped the hair from Rose's eyes.

The door to the bathroom opened and a night worker entered. "What's going on in here?" she asked.

"She was sleepwalking," Celeste said.

"Get her back to her room," the woman instructed.

Rosie squinted at the harsh fluorescent lights of the bathroom. "I need to lie down." She stumbled out of the bathroom with Celeste's help. When they were back in their room, Celeste laid Rosie down on her bed and covered her up.

"Are you okay?" she asked again.

Rosie pulled the covers all the way up to her chin, her eyelids dropping. "I'm fine. I just . . ." She was still soaked from the shower, but didn't want to change clothes. She needed the water on her—it made her feel comfortable and connected to the blue-eyed woman in her dreams. She drifted off to sleep again, searching the corridors of her mind for a glimpse of the woman with the chipped tea cup, but was met with only darkness until morning came.

**To be continued**


	8. Return in the Summer

Ch. 8

True to her word, Maggie made peach cobbler for Rosie's birthday. It was the day after her fitful dream and Rosie still felt like she was sleeping. She managed to let one of the social workers ride with her on the bus to Maggie's house, and was given a strict curfew of 6pm before they had to meet again at the bus stop.

Rosie sat in Maggie and Bug's living room in her David Bowie t-shirt, her ripped jeans and scuffed sneakers. She tried braiding her hair the way Celeste showed her, but it became a tangled mess and she ended up combing it out with water. Bug was on the sofa next to her, waxing his surfboard on the coffee table. He had hidden his pot stash before Rose arrived, but she could still smell the dry, skunky smoke in the fabric of the couch.

"You want ice cream?" Maggie called from the kitchen.

"Yeah—no." Rosie shook her head. "No, sorry."

Bug glanced at Rosie. He was shirtless, tan muscles flexing as he waxed his board, his sandy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. "You okay, little princess?" he asked.

Rosie nodded. "Yeah. Fine." Except she wasn't. She couldn't get the dream out of her head—the blue-eyed woman with brown hair, the golden light, the chipped teacup—and it all felt so close and yet so far, like stars on a clear night.

Rose took a surfing magazine from the end table and flipped through it. She never knew what to say to Bug when they were alone together. He smiled and cracked jokes, but he had a faraway look in his eye that suggested he was thinking of bigger things, things Rosie was still too young to understand.

There was clanging in the kitchen, the slamming of an oven door, and the smell of peach cobbler wafted into the room. Maggie arrived moments later with the pan of cobbler in her hand and sixteen candles stuck into the hard outer crust.

"Bug, move the board," Maggie said.

Bug did as he was told and set his surfboard against the wall next to the couch. Maggie set the cobbler on the coffee table and smiled. They sang _Happy Birthday_, and when Rosie blew out the candles, one remained lit in the middle.

"Uh-oh. One boyfriend," Bug said.

"Yeah, right." Rosie rolled her eyes.

Maggie got a spatula from the kitchen and cut everyone a slice. Rosie sat on the couch with the plate of hot cobbler on her lap and only stared at it. Maggie stopped eating from her spot on the armchair and looked at her friend.

"You okay, sweetie?" she asked.

Rosie nodded and picked at her birthday treat. She raised her hooded eyes to the wall across from her. It was painted blue, adorned with seashells Maggie had found on the beach and pinned with fishing net. Rosie had the sudden urge to run out into the ocean and swim as deep as she could.

"Excellent cobbler, _mon cheri_," Bug said, giving a wink to his girlfriend.

Maggie smiled, but frowned again when she saw Rosie staring at the wall. "What's up, Rose? You've been even quieter than usual."

Rosie blinked out of her ocean daydream and looked at Maggie. "I'm just . . . homesick."

"Homesick? For Linda?"

"No, no" Rosie scrunched her nose and shook her head. "I just . . . I had this dream last night—"

"Ooh, let's give her her present, Mags," Bug said.

"Oh, right!" Maggie stood, set her plate on the end table, and dashed down the hall to their room.

Bug grinned as he licked his plate clean and said, "You'll love it."

Rosie sighed and put her uneaten cobbler on the coffee table. She turned to Bug and asked, "Do you miss your parents?"

He looked at her. "Me?" Bug tilted his head up in thought. "Sometimes. I still see 'em at Christmas in Arizona and my brother comes down to borrow money every other month. Why?"

Rosie shrugged. "I was just thinking—"

"Here we go!" Maggie came from the hallway with a small box wrapped in newspaper. "Sorry we don't have a card or anything." She handed it to Rosie.

Rose mustered a smile and took the present. She opened it carefully, as if Maggie and Bug would want to keep old newspaper anyway, and revealed a new iPod. The tape had already been broken on the box, but everything was accounted for, including headphones.

"Happy birthday!" Maggie and Bug said.

Rosie smiled for real and looked at her friends. "How did you afford this?"

"I know a guy," Bug said. "Don't worry, it's totally legit."

"Bug jail broke it for you, so it has a bunch of your favorite songs on it already."

"That part wasn't entirely legal," Bug admitted.

Rosie looked at the mp3 player, then at Maggie and her boyfriend. Tears welled in her eyes. It wasn't a new sketchbook or a mom and dad, but it was the best birthday present she had ever gotten. "Thank you so much," she whispered. She leapt up and threw her arms around Maggie's neck, squeezing her tightly.

Rose took the iPod out of the box, checked the album list, and finally ate her slice of cobbler. Bug put on a Hawaiian shirt (but still didn't bother to button it up) and grilled fish on the patio. Rose and Maggie stayed inside and gossiped while playing Scrabble. Rosie wondered if she should tell Maggie about her dream last night, but just thinking about it put her back in that sad place that left her homesick. She pushed it out of her mind and focused on getting a double-letter score to beat Maggie's ten-point lead.

After they ate grilled cod, Rosie and her friends sat out on the patio that overlooked the ocean. The tide was coming in, rushing at the sand like a foamy army. Santa Monica Pier was a speck in the distance down the beach. The sky was gray, threatening rain, and a chilly wind blew in from the sea.

"It's times like these I wish we were a little older," Maggie said dreamily.

Bug looked at his girlfriend. "Speak for yourself, honey."

Maggie gave him a wink. She nudged Rosie, who sat in the lawn chair next to her. "Did you have a good birthday?"

Rosie tore her eyes away from the ocean and grinned at her friend. "Yeah. I'm sorry I've been weird."

"You're _always_ weird," Maggie said. "That's why we love you."

Bug tilted his patio chair back and glanced at the clock on the wall through the glass doors. "It's almost six. Better start heading back, little princess."

Maggie stood and folded her chair up as Bug threw water on the coals of the grill. Rosie stayed in her seat and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Just a few more minutes," she said, gazing at the endless body of water.

Maggie looked at her boyfriend and shrugged. "Okay. We'll be inside."

The couple retreated indoors where the wind wasn't howling and the air was slightly warmer. Rosie stared at the ocean, that horrible feeling of homesickness creeping back into her soul. She thought about the blue-eyed woman who drank from the chipped cup so easily. Why did she seem so familiar? And why was her voice so haunting, so strangely comforting?

The wind picked up, forming white caps along the waves. Rosie squinted, hoping she would see the mysterious golden light on the water again, but there was nothing. She sighed, headed back indoors, and said a quick goodbye to Maggie and Bug.

Rose gathered her backpack and stuffed her iPod in the front zipper. She double-checked to make sure everything was there—her sketchbook, her wallet, a few tampons, some notebooks full of schoolwork—and threw the pack over her shoulders. Rosie looked at the clock on the wall. She had ten minutes to get to the bus stop before her social worker called out the National Guard.

Rosie slipped out the back door, closing the glass shut quietly as Bug and Maggie laughed in the kitchen together. She envied their closeness, the way they could communicate with just a look in their eyes, and even though Bug wasn't perfect, he was perfect enough for Maggie. Rosie wanted that more than she was willing to admit. She walked across the patio, arms crossed over her chest to block the wind. Her eye caught something shiny in the distance, a flicker of light. She stopped and looked at the water. The golden light was there again.

Rose blinked and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, but it was still there when her vision cleared, close enough to the shore to reach out and touch. The wind carried bits of light across the water, swirling and dancing like snow on an icy lake. Rose walked down to the shore, the light pulling her in with its exotic, magnetizing force. The tips of her shoes were right against the shoreline. She turned her head and glanced back at Maggie's bungalow, but they seemed miles away, in another realm entirely.

"This is crazy," Rosie whispered.

She gripped the strap of her backpack and turned on her heels for the beach. A gust of wind blew at her back, blowing specks of light around her. Just as she made a successful step forward, Rosie was pulled into the water by an unseen force. A freak waved, glistening like sunshine, wrapped Rosie up and dragged her to the sea. She kicked and screamed for help, water rushing up and over her head. Rosie looked up, fully submerged, and saw the golden light twisting and turning in the water like an unruly tornado, sucking her deeper into what used to be the shallow end of the shore. She gasped for breath, writhing in a panic, then blacked out as if someone had pulled a mask over her eyes.

Even in the darkness, Rosie could hear the blue-eyed woman whispering, _"Where did they take you?"_

**To be continued_  
_**


End file.
